


Astrophysicists Only Know So Much

by Calaphrass (SexyStripedTie)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (not explicitly described), M/M, Mentions of Underage Sex, Mentions of reincarnation, Post-Stanford, Pre-Stanford, Sam and Dean carve matching initials into each other's hips, Scarification, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-20 13:28:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8250745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SexyStripedTie/pseuds/Calaphrass
Summary: The carved initials are still there, when Dean comes back from hell. Dean’s been remade, rehymenated, touched by an angel and re-chiseled fresh from the blood and flesh up – but the letters Sam carved into his hip years earlier are still there.They’re still there.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is my fill for the SpnKinkBingo Free Space square. :) I chose scarification.
> 
> Enjoy!

The carved initials are still there, when Dean comes back from hell. Dean’s been remade, rehymenated, touched by an angel and re-chiseled fresh from the blood and flesh up – but the letters carved into his hip are still there.

They’re still there.

Exactly where Sam had put them, back when Sam was sixteen and Dean was twenty and the only things they knew in life were blister-hot stretches of road and packaged gas station food, bloody knuckles and hearts desperately bleeding over for each other. When their life was still a scratched looping record of empty promises from Dad and overflowing promises whispered to each other, soft and forbidden, far too intimate to exist anywhere but sheltered and hidden in their just-small-enough motel-rooms-made-home where they could safely press each other against off-white sheets and slide their palms together, fingers intertwined.

 

Sam’s hands aren’t trembling right now, but they aren’t exactly steady as he touches, traces his fingers across what shouldn’t still be but is. Across his mark he left on Dean. His promise.

There are no marks left over from hell. Only his.

He doesn’t understand. But he recognizes it for what it is. It’s consecration. They never asked for any, never needed any – but this. This is– is proof, is validation, of something, something deeper, something bigger. Sam doesn’t know what it is. Can’t verbalize it, can’t prove it, can’t speak it when it catches and stalls in his throat. But he knows. They both do.

 

Sam figures it out in heaven. _Soulmates_ , Ash says. _Soulmates_ , Dean breathes quietly, after.

Soulmates, Sam agrees, slipping his hand into Dean’s and squeezing hard.

There, right there, was the name for the feeling they’d been carrying around their entire lives. For– for the intimacy, the connection, for the wordless knowledge that passed between them and for the knowledge that could never be put into words. For the dreams of other lives. Because those – it was them, wasn’t it? It had always been them. They’d found each other, time and time again, throughout lifetimes and lineages, and sometimes they hadn’t. But mostly they had. Most importantly, they had now. They had each other in this one. And neither of them planned to let go.

 

The carvings, the initials – they’d been a promise. A proclamation. And today, as sand kicks up around their heels and the sun beats down on them and they’re buzzed and happy with beer-wet throats and conversation-wet eyes, a breeze stirs against Dean’s jacket and ruffles his hair, and suddenly it’s all Sam can focus on.

 _Beautiful_ , Sam thinks fiercely, seized with a love so intense that he can’t breathe.

 

They’d never really carved it on each other’s skin, had they? When they’d undressed and disinfected those knives and slid in and made their mark, they’d carved deeper than that; it’d been ritual, a pact, a promise, a symbol and a physical act rolled into one in that it bound them together and kept them whole. It was physical reassurance of their devotion despite circumstance: that always, come whatever and what may, they would have each other. In sickness and in health. In life and death, and after.

They’d always known they were bound anyways; from day one their worlds revolved around each other to an incoherent degree. They’d just never assumed they were right about it on a cosmic scale.

But they’d never really carved it on each other’s skin, had they? No; it’d gone deeper than that. Deep enough to survive hell and a grace-blazing angel of the Lord’s recreation. They hadn’t carved it on each other’s skin. They’d carved it on each other’s souls.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspiration credit goes to [deanplease](https://deanplease.tumblr.com/) and their flawless fic [Sure Got a Dirty Mouth](http://archiveofourown.org/works/411362/chapters/682610/) for the idea of matching hip initials.
> 
> Check out the rest of my stuff over at [my Tumblr](https://sexystripedtie.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
